


Aftermath

by xoxogossipwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Spoilers, if you haven't seen the latest ep you probably shouldn't read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:29:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoxogossipwolf/pseuds/xoxogossipwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles helps clean up the mess Kali made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> I'm extremely nervous and this is the first fic/thing I've ever put out there so please be gentle. Unbeta'd so any spelling/grammar mistakes are on me. Enjoy! Hopefully!

Stiles stays with Derek afterwards, long after Cora takes Boyd’s body away, after Lydia takes Isaac back to Scott’s and Ms. Blake goes God knows where, home Stiles assumes, or maybe to a liquor store. Stiles stays.

He takes Derek to the bathroom, runs warm water in the tub, sits Derek down in it and gently scrubs the blood off him, Derek sits passively and doesn't say anything. Stiles doesn't try to talk to him, doesn't ramble, lets Derek have his silence even though his head is buzzing, he wants to reassure him that it is not his fault, nothing could have prevented it. Stiles doesn't ask if he’s okay, he can tell by the fact that Derek’s letting him do this that he is, in fact not okay.  
  
Stiles grabs some shampoo that he’s pretty sure is Cora’s because Derek does not usually smell like Coconut Kiss, and lathers Derek’s hair with it. Derek wrinkles his nose a little bit and Stiles can't help but think that it's extremely adorable, even at a time like this.

“Cora’s.” Is all Derek says. Stiles lets a small smile flicker across his face. “C’mon who doesn't wanna smell like coconuts? It's totally a gender neutral smell.” The corner of Derek’s mouth lifts just slightly. Then as if remembering that he shouldn't be smiling the not-even-a-half-smile vanishes from his face and the closed off look replaces it.

Stiles rinses the white foam off of Derek’s head and slaps his arm gently and Derek gets out of the tub, sits on the closed toilet and lets Stiles gently towel his hair. Stiles can feel Derek leaning into his hand, eyes closed and looking so sad it sends a pang that resonates in Stiles's entire body. He puts Derek into a t-shirt and fluffy sweat pants as if Derek isn't a grown ass werewolf and capable of doing this himself.  
  
Stiles tries not to think about how Derek was in the infant months of losing almost his whole entire family. If he let Laura do this, if he shut down so completely he didn't even want to dress himself, he wondered how he came to stand on his own again. Time, lots and lots of time Stiles guessed. That's the only thing that worked for him.

Derek pulls the covers backs and slips under them once they make it to the bedroom and he looks at Stiles, eyebrows raised. Stiles is suddenly acutely aware of how soaked his socks and shoes are and how stupid he must look just standing in the doorway.  
  
“I-I’ll just go home then, I’m pretty sure Lydia took my jeep but I’ll just walk it's not that far only about a 30 minute walk. I’ll see you later then, Derek. Try to get some rest.” Stiles doesn't make it an inch out of the doorway before Derek says, very quietly as if he didn't really want Stiles to hear him. “Stay with me.”  
  
Stiles stops, turns and looks at Derek, who looks so young and so sad and who's face is still closed off but perhaps less so than before, acceptance Stiles thinks. He slips his pants, shoes, and over-shirt off, and slips into the bed, careful not to touch Derek.  
  
Derek scoots until his back is touching Stiles’s stomach. Stiles slings a tentative arm around Derek's waist and Derek sighs softly into the darkness. Stiles thinks he probably shouldn't but he says so anyway. “Boyd wasn't your fault. He didn't blame you. You shouldn't blame yourself either. Maybe he’s with Erica now, wherever that is. Maybe he's happy, at peace. Don’t blame yourself.”  
  
Derek stiffens up but doesn't move or answer. Stiles thinks he's really gone and fucked it up now. After about a minute or so he just finds Stiles’s hand and slips their fingers together. Stiles smiles to the darkness and squeezes Derek's hand gently, an unspoken promise. To help, to heal, to stay.


End file.
